


In Good Faith

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: The king’s homecoming is a bittersweet affair.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	In Good Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic for the Dimitri zine, A King’s Journey! It was accompanied by some lovely page art by @tanawwww on twitter, so check out her page for some more really great art!

“You’ve been busy, I take it.”

Mercedes’ gentle smile widened at the remark as she picked a book up off the table. “I have some free time. The injuries on our side were few, so there have been more than enough healers to go around. No one’s been overworking too much, either.” She began wiping the cover down with a cloth and sent him a knowing glance. “I’m not so sure you can say the same.”

Dimitri could only offer a guilty smile as he avoided the look. “Perhaps not. But rising so early, Mercedes? You’ve quite the work ethic yourself.”

She chuckled and started on the next book. “I’ll have you know I had a full night’s rest after that lovely feast, so don’t you worry about me. It’s just that there’s no telling when we’ll return to Fhirdiad, so I want to pitch in a little before we leave. Just to give the people somewhere to turn to.”

He nodded as he glanced around the small chapel. Before the war, Dimitri would never have imagined any church buildings to be so… well, _simple_ , in a word. Even before coming to know the impressive grandeur of Garreg Mach, he had attended enough services in Fhirdiad’s cathedral as a boy to associate the Seiros faith with elegant decor: stained glass, polished wood, plenty of space for the masses in attendance. He hadn’t known the commoners’ churches valued function over presentation to the point of low ceilings and nearly empty walls.

And yet, after fleeing the capital five years ago, small, abandoned chapels such as these had served as his shelter more than once. The irony of his lack of faith hadn’t been lost on him at the time.

“Do you think they will return here so quickly?” he wondered.

“I do.” A little solemnly, she added, “It’s true the Empire’s actions have driven some believers away, maybe permanently, but faith runs deeper than that. The more it’s challenged and oppressed, the harder people will hold onto it.”

“I’m… afraid I don’t relate,” he admitted, “but I think I understand the sentiment.”

“I think you relate more than you think.” She began arranging the books on the nearest shelf. “When I say faith, I don’t just mean religion. I think that goes for anything that a person truly believes in. Even if it’s something like…” Her movements slowed for a moment, the cheer in her face fading a bit. “The first time you’re in a real battle, and you see just how fragile life really is. After that, you realize how much you appreciate being alive.”

That struck close to home. At his sides, Dimitri’s fists clenched briefly. “I see,” he replied, a little awkwardly.

If Mercedes noticed, she didn’t react. “Say, could you move those benches for me, please?” She indicated where some of the pews were pushed against the opposite wall. “Only if you don’t mind me putting you to work, that is.”

“Not at all.”

It was actually nice to have his hands busy again. It hadn’t been Dimitri’s intention when he set out that morning; with the sudden scramble to prepare for the march to Derdriu, he had yet to return to the city streets since the battle and hoped to see them for himself before the day started.

Coming across Mercedes had been a happy chance. He’d had few opportunities for casual interactions like these of late, besides with the professor and a couple others. Moreover, he felt grateful to see her committing herself to the people like this—and envied, perhaps, her easy propensity to do so.

They talked as they worked, and made progress in what felt like no time at all. The building had long since been plundered of anything remotely valuable—utensils, candlesticks, even the clergy’s garments—but there were still signs of care despite the Empire’s aggressive influence. Moth-eaten cushions and blankets in the corner, a box of tended flowers on the windowsill, and a surprisingly clean floor suggested some recent activity. Dimitri wasn’t sure how hard Cornelia had cracked down on the presence of religion, especially down in the commoner levels, but it was, perhaps, as Mercedes had said. In the midst of such hardship, there may have been those who clung to their faith all the more stubbornly, even under the threat of legal persecution or worse.

“Once the war is over,” he remarked as he set down the last two pews carefully, so as not to scuff the floor, “I would like to make restorations one of the first priorities. I’m not sure what you intend to do after all is said and done, but the poorer areas are the most likely to be overlooked, even neglected in the financial plannings,” he admitted with a frown. “I could use someone with your eye for noticing such things, if it suits you.”

Mercedes chuckled kindly from where she was wiping down one of the dusty windows. “You really are as work-minded as they say. I’d be happy to do what I can.” Despite the smile on her face, an unspoken _but_ seemed to hang in the air, especially when she didn’t look at him.

“Of course, you need not decide now.” Dimitri cast her a concerned glance as he straightened the large marble altar. “Or… if there are accommodations I could make…”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She folded her rag distractedly, her smile overcast with something sad. That glimpse of pain on her soft features twisted his heart even without context. “I believe I told you about my adoptive father before. It turns out he’s currently in the city.”

It was an old, dusty memory, as many things before the first battle of Garreg Mach were these days, but Dimitri remembered. “...I see.”

“So… to be honest with you, I’m being a little selfish right now. I want to clean up this church for those who need it, but at the same time… Well, he would never be seen in this part of town.”

Ah.

He watched as she started on the next window, as surely and attentively as though the conversation had never deviated. He imagined she was probably good at that.

“It might not mean much coming from me, but I’d hardly call wanting your own life ‘selfish,’ Mercedes.” His gaze wandered over the small room, already looking so much more welcoming thanks to her efforts. “And... for the time being, you are, by strictest definition, in the service of the prince. I would be more than happy to remind your father of that, should he come calling for you.”

Mercedes made a half-hearted attempt at covering her giggle. “Thank you, Dimitri. But I will have to stand up to him eventually.” Despite that vague, more serious remark, her smile was brighter when she next turned to him. “But how are you doing? I imagine it’s been a long time since you were here last.”

That was a complicated question with no short answers. “It... has been mostly business, so I haven’t had much time to reflect on my thoughts,” Dimitri replied, addressing the latter half of her words. He noticed her glance in his direction, but he focused on lining up the benches just right.

“Well… if you’d like to do so before we set out, now might be a good time.” She smiled warmly, everything about her expression patient and inviting. It was a simple invitation to talk.

She’d been that way since he first met her and he knew she wouldn’t judge him if he opened up to her, just as she wouldn’t push or take offense if he declined. And yet, there was still a part of him coiled tight and defensive in a dark corner of his mind that didn’t want to make himself so vulnerable—not from lack of trust, but the habit and bitter obligation of self-reliance that had driven him for five years. Perhaps longer than that, even.

His problems were his own, he had been convinced, and he had no right to cast shadows on others just to try and make himself feel better. Thoughts like those made his isolation easier to bear at times—but looking back now, perhaps that had been one of his first mistakes.

When the silence went on a little too long, Mercedes amended gently, “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. But you seem like something’s bothering you, and I’m always happy to listen.”

His smile was distracted, apologetic. “I’m sorry if it’s that obvious.”

“Nonsense.” Her voice wasn’t unkind, but there was a firmness to it that made him feel like a small child caught in a lie. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings, Dimitri.”

He almost apologized again, but he caught himself. It seemed redundant to stress that he didn’t want to bother her; that much was probably a given, considering she felt it necessary to offer in the first place.

With no more pews to move, Dimitri could only let his arms fall back to his sides. “I meant it when I said I haven’t had much time for thinking. But when I do, it’s…” It was hard to say where business ended and the personal began. All of this was personal to him, of course, but some things took priority over others as long as this war went on.

Those _others_ were what grabbed and clawed at him now, in these rare moments of stillness.

“It’s a lot to consider,” he finished at last. “Being here again has brought out many old memories. I am… not sure what to make of some of them just yet.”

As he’d wandered the castle the day before, retracing familiar steps from what felt like a lifetime ago, snatches of forgotten sights and sounds returned to him. Some, while stinging, were still pleasant—smiling faces, evenings spent by a fire, comfortably crowded rooms.

Others, however tinged with happiness on the surface, tugged at the nagging doubt that had been eating at him incessantly since the last battle.

Cornelia’s words still echoed in his ears, loud and clear like an incessant bell ever since he struck her head from her shoulders in his fit of blind rage. Over every memory of his stepmother there loomed a shadow now, and he wasn’t sure whom he hated more: Cornelia for spinning such a tale, or himself for entertaining it as possible truth.

Dimitri shook himself from that train of thought. He wasn’t ready to address all of that—not personally, and certainly not with anyone else just yet. “At any rate… at present, what concerns me is that the city is in a better state than I’d hoped, but… at the same time, it is worse than I imagined. And I’m not sure I’m the right person to save it.”

By now Mercedes had pulled from her chores to give him her full attention, hands folded over her lap as she leaned against the windowsill.

“The corruption doesn’t stop with deposing the Empire’s presence,” he explained. “After five years, Fhirdiad—no, all of Faerghus, I am sure—it bleeds among nobles and commoners alike. I’ve been back here a day, and yet… the crime, the poverty… I already see it.” He _recognized_ it. He’d witnessed the very same depths of desperation and abandonment while living in the slums himself during his wandering.

And yet, in his arrogance, seeing it here in his own city had shocked him all the same. Even now, the thought made his blood run hot and his fists clench until they hurt.

“And as I see the suffering it causes, my first inclination is to heal bloodshed with more bloodshed. To blame the aggressors rather than the system that created them. I fear I am unchanged in that regard,” he said with a slow shake of his head, “and I wonder if that is really the sort of leader the kingdom needs.”

In the corner of his eye, Mercedes smoothed the front of her dress without comment. Another apology rose reflexively on Dimitri’s tongue as he began to fear he’d said too much, but it caught as she hummed thoughtfully.

“You know, Dimitri, sometimes I find it hard to believe you’re the same person I knew back at the academy. But when you say things like that, I realize you’ve hardly changed at all.”

When he stared at her, Mercedes approached and asked simply, “Would you sit with me?”

Surprised, Dimitri only nodded. She took a seat in the nearest pew and patted the space beside her, and then looked up at him with that same easy smile once he’d joined her.

“Do you remember when I taught you to sew?” she asked unexpectedly.

A grunt of a laugh grated in his throat. “Of course. That was the only time I’d ever seen you look exasperated. I felt terrible.”

“But you improved,” she insisted. “You did pity yourself a little at the start, but you still worked hard, and you got better.”

Dimitri eyed her. “I suppose you mean to say that I’m pitying myself again.”

“Aren’t you?”

Her soft voice stung like a slap to the face. He frowned, but it was at himself.

“I think Faerghus is very lucky to have a king as humble as you,” she told him, “but there’s such a thing as being _too_ humble. If you aren’t careful, being selfless can circle right back into selfishness. Even if your intentions are good, you’re still making the situation about yourself.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

He tried again.

“That isn’t my intention. If I can’t look at things objectively now, what hope would I have as king?”

“It’s certainly a noble mindset to strive for. But I don’t think you’ve realized that being objective means you can’t be so hard on yourself.”

Dimitri’s frown deepened. “Mercedes—”

He was silenced by her featherlight hand on his arm. If he hadn’t been watching her, he wouldn’t have noticed its weight. Her eyes were full of sympathy and held his gaze with all the confidence he suddenly lacked.

“Feeling angry doesn’t make you a bad king. It makes you as human as the rest of us.” She sounded so certain and sincere. “I think most people prefer a leader who understands how they feel, and who can admit when he’s wrong.”

Turning that over for a long moment, Dimitri finally dropped his gaze back to her hand. “You know people better than I, Mercedes,” he said quietly. “Tell me, honestly: when the fighting is over, and they need someone to lead them into peace… do you believe there is still a place for someone like me?”

He watched her hand—small, delicate, gentle—slip down to settle atop his. “You heard those cheers as well as I did,” she murmured. “They weren’t cheering for a commander, Dimitri. Those were the voices of people who still have faith in you.” Her easy grip tightened almost imperceptibly, her smile the warmest yet. “Just as all of your friends do. Me included.”

_Faith_.

Was that what it was?

The reason the professor had never hesitated to trust Dimitri in battle, even when his selfishness was at its peak? Why Felix insisted, with no venom in his words now, that the two of them spar together, sneering at Dimitri’s concern of not being able to hold himself back anymore?

Was that why Ingrid remained as loyal as ever? Why Sylvain could still joke and tease like nothing had changed? Was that what encouraged Ashe to offer his help so often now, when he’d once flinched whenever Dimitri so much as looked at him, and Annette to smile at him again as brightly as she used to?

Was that why Dedue could speak so confidently about pledging, risking, even giving his life for him?

Once, Dimitri would have been quick to call such obligations pity, even stupidity.

Now, watching Mercedes put her heart into restoring this broken little building, all because she believed in what it stood for and what it could do, he knew better.

At length he hummed, low and thoughtful. “This isn’t the first time you’ve helped pick me up after a failure, is it? It must be tiring.”

Her smile grew a little impish, as though she were holding back a laugh. “I do seem to recall you being in a pretty big slump after you broke my scissors.” She gave his knuckles a tender pat, and then withdrew her hand to her lap. “But I think I understand. It sounds like you’re always so concerned with what you do wrong that you don’t stop very often to consider how you’ve improved.”

Dimitri could find no argument with her there. He had always been quick to criticize his faults.

“I suppose I don’t.” He barely stifled a sigh. He felt tired all of a sudden, and not for lack of sleep. No more than usual, at least. “I’ve gone so long trying to be the person I thought others needed—an avenger foremost, a leader second… My shortcomings were all I could see. I’m certain I would have done better if I’d believed in myself even half as much as you do.”

“Do you still think that way now?”

That gave him pause. “I don’t believe I can change overnight,” he confessed. “And, if I’m being honest, I’m still trying to sort out many thoughts and feelings. What I decide may well determine the sort of person I end up becoming, when all is said and done.”

Tilting his head back, Dimitri let his gaze wander over the cobwebs that dusted the ceiling, the shafts of morning sun that played across the white walls and gave them color.

“But knowing I have you, and everyone, to help me keep to the right path—who will accept me regardless of my struggles… I start to think that I’m already who I need to be, shortcomings and all. All that’s left is to see things through to the end.”

Slowly, as though the expression was another forgotten memory finally drifting back to him, Dimitri smiled, his gaze soft as he turned to her.

“That… is something I can dare to believe in.”


End file.
